


21st Century Schizoid Man

by pikeisaman



Category: Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
Genre: Bisexual Character, Drug Abuse, F/M, M/M, Prostitution, ennui
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikeisaman/pseuds/pikeisaman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He missed Sloane like burning, he missed Cameron like he would water, and he didn’t have anything to keep him distracted from that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	21st Century Schizoid Man

**Author's Note:**

> READ THIS. This is pretty damn dark if you aren't used to the shit I write, sorry man. If you can't handle poor grammar then this isn't for you. It's disjointed as hell and I like it that way.

Taking a hit was like accomplishing something great, it was like getting on a rollercoaster ride--that split second where you’re at the very top and you can see absolutely everything and you just take a huge breath and you know that this is going to be _amazing_. It was like getting the better of someone who had it coming, it was like being in love with Sloane that first time they had gone out and she had smiled at him and for once he didn’t know what to say or how to act. It was like when Ferris saw Cameron stand up for himself and kick his fucking dad’s car off that stupid glass garage.

The problem with being Ferris is that, these moments became few and far between.

College was okay, it wasn’t scary like everyone said it would be, in fact, it was pretty much exactly the same as high school. The work that teachers insisted would be so challenging? Just as easy if you knew how to play the game. Instead of being at the bottom of the totem pole, Ferris found himself quickly right at the top. And that was the problem.

He missed Sloane like burning, he missed Cameron like he would water, and he didn’t have anything to keep him distracted from that. After exactly no contemplation at all Ferris had chosen a journalism major and before his first semester was over he found himself being awarded with some stupid school prize, the first freshmen to ever have done so. He hadn’t even tried.

It was boring, everything was boring.

And so when he went to a party and some chick that looked kind of like Sloane if he squinted in the dark had offered him some of her stash, he had taken it willing and hadn’t looked back. By Christmas he was up to heroin and even as he puked it up behind the bushes of some frat house while a bookish girl who looked slightly like Cameron if he pretended patted his back and asked him if he was okay Ferris knew this was a single step in the best experience of his life.

Pretty soon he stopped going to classes all together

After that he sent his parents a cheery letter and packed up his shit, taking off to New York.  The rush was amazing and he didn’t ever want it to stop.

His first week in New York he slept outside and it sucked but at the same time it was thrilling because he never knew how easy it was to get drugs before. Most of his money was gone after the first four days, and he spent the next three making friends with some homeless guys who introduced him to the proper ways to do heroin and not die in the process.

The second week he was in New York he saw some women selling themselves down on the streets and thought, “huh I could do that.”

And as it turned out that was a rush too.

His first client was a tired old guy who just wanted to get his dick sucked and was happy to teach some newbie like Ferris how to do it properly. Not that he really needed him to.

By the third week Ferris had his own apartment, all the drugs he could possibly want, and a building clientele.  Seemed like a good life to him. He lost whatever virginity was left to a very rich man who rewarded him with a whole new wardrobe and an offer to be his exclusive boy. Ferris took the clothes, but left the apartment.  He wasn’t really looking for any kind of commitment.  

“You’re a little whore aren’t you,” the johns all grunted during sex, like this was a fucking revelation to him at this point.

“Sure,” Ferris responded high as hell and without shame because he was, of course he was.

Okay at first he had also gotten a couple of black eyes and there were a few times where he had had to head for the hills, but he learned how to navigate the streets and what kind of guy liked what, and how to dress for Greenwich or Wall Street, and how to suck a guy who was worried that his wife was going to be walking through the door at any moment and this was so much much much much more fun than a journalism degree.

Once in a while he’d get a few women and Ferris would make sure to treat every single one like he would Sloane. Any woman brave enough to call him was his type of women. He joked with them, he went down on them, and he made sure that they all had the time of their lives because he knew how rare that it was they did at home (wherever that was).

One time there was a guy and he looked like Cameron, not in his outward appearance but in the way he stuttered and sighed and seemed to be perpetually hurt from the cruel world, and Ferris made sure to treat him like a queen.  The guy was a virgin just like Ferris had no doubts that Cameron still was (or was there some girl at his school with dark hair and dark eyes who made him laugh and tried to teach him how to have fun?) and Ferris delighted in introducing him to everything he could think of.  It almost seemed a shame to take his money but hey a guy’s gotta eat right.

 Heroin became his meals and his actual meals became few and far between. It didn’t really matter; he hadn’t ever eaten that much to begin with. Still he started to get thinner and thinner and the wounds on his arms would sometimes become infected, which actually worried him because his appearance was important to him. So he started buying expensive lotion to rub on himself, which had the added benefit of helping the itching that seemed to be a constant, and also meant he had even less money for food. Whatever. 

Eventually thinking about home became as unimportant as food, and he gradually stopped thinking of Sloane and Cameron at all, even as he treated girls like caged princesses and shy virgin guys like they were queens for the day. It all became second nature, and there was only the rush of heroin and danger and sex, and all three combined.

Yeah, it was a good life.                                                                                                                           


End file.
